What We Learned This Weekend
by chezchuckles
Summary: Post-ep for Murder, He Wrote. aka, the Hamptons episode. What happened on their drive home.


**What We Learned This Weekend**

* * *

She liked _grocery shopping_ with him.

That's what she learned this weekend.

Being in the kitchen - the remodeled kitchen - of his Hamptons house and playfully shooing him out when he got too handsy, and then surprising him with dinner, albeit dinner with a mafia man - she liked it.

Hm. Still processing that.

The murder, the obsessing, the sitting in lock-up for two hours, the wanting in on the arrest, she's not surprised with. That solving a case with him makes her hot, not a new thing. That she feels the need to press her body closer and tighter against his as they build theory - again, not exactly news.

That they managed, so completely, to claim every part of that damn house and make it. . .Hamptons' 12th Precinct Lite? Something. No longer just a massively huge house she pictured Gina redecorating, but a base of operations and a getaway and-

"What are you smiling about?" he laughs, reaches out to turn down the radio.

She shrugs as the landscape slides by the window, scratches absent-mindedly at a bug bite at her shoulder before she realizes-

teeth marks. Not a bug bite.

A Castle bite.

"Castle," she grunts and glancing over her shoulder to the sharp ride of her shoulder blade. "You bit me."

"Um."

"There are teeth marks."

He laughs and she reaches out and thwacks him in the thigh for it, but he snatches her hand quickly, squeezing her fingers.

"You bit me too."

"This was retaliation?"

"Not. . .intentionally. Not that I remember. I don't know; you're hot. What am I supposed to do, Beckett? It's not like I can always control it."

She's not smiling at that. No. Not smiling.

"You're still smiling."

She huffs and turns her face to the window.

* * *

He has to stop and get gas at an out of the way station off the interstate. It's his favorite little place, the man who owns it is always the one working the register, and Kate actually gets out and heads inside for bottles of water. He didn't even have to ask - she just knows.

When she comes back, she's smiling again.

"What?" he says, really wanting to know.

She just shrugs again and hands him a bottle. He breaks open the seal while the gas pumps, watches her lean against the car with her hip, sipping water. She's tied her hair back again, but it curls at her ears, at the long column of her throat.

He said it, he meant it, but really. . .no one else is Kate.

He's learning. Slowly. But it's becoming quite clear to him that this isn't going to be like anything else before in his life.

"Good vacation?" he says, suddenly wanting a connection to her across the car.

She tilts her head, brings the water away from her lips, and her smile stretches shy and beautiful and pleased across her face.

"That's a good answer," he breathes out, startled when the pump clicks off hard beside him.

She gets in the car, wordless, and he pulls the pump out, hangs it back up, screws the cap on until it clicks.

Really.

No one else even comes close to Kate Beckett.

* * *

All the things she thinks to say just won't work. When she mulls them over, phrases like _I had a good time_ and _that was fun; let's do it again_ just don't sound like enough.

"You made a countdown clock," he says suddenly.

Kate glances over at him, the easy cradle of the wheel by his large hand, the relaxed line of his shoulder, the sunglasses.

"Friday, you mean?"

"Yeah. On your computer. That was. . ."

"Ridiculous."

"Cute."

She snorts and re-crosses her legs, swaying her foot to keep the blood circulating. Her water bottle is empty; she really doesn't want to have to stop again to go to the bathroom, but-

"How long did you have that up? Like all hour?"

Hm. Is this really information she should give him?

"All day," she blurts out.

Damn. Looks like her mouth has been disconnected from her brain.

"All _day_?" he gasps, throwing her a too-long look in the passenger seat.

"Eyes on the road, Castle." She should've driven. His car, but-

"All day," he murmurs, and then that grin splits across his face. "I didn't know that. All day."

_Because it was Friday and you weren't there and I missed you and it was vacation, you idiot, of course all day._

She manages to hold that one back.

His hand darts out and snags hers, fingers lacing easily, smoothly, with months of practice now. She likes the way it feels to have those digits widen the spaces between hers, stretching her.

It's all about growth.

"I was counting down the hours," she says finally, a little sigh as it all escapes.

The reflexive squeeze of his hand is her response, that catch in his breath that she loves, and she finds herself having to turn her face to the window again, and smile.

Wait.

No.

Let him see.

"Castle."

He glances over, and the startling explosion of his grin only matches hers.

"Yeah."

She doesn't have to say anything more.

There's a lot to learn, but they're getting there.

* * *

He gives a chuckle and tries to be patient in the city traffic.

"What's that for?" she murmurs, fishing a grape out of the bag and popping it into her mouth.

He told her, already, what that does to him. So not right.

"I just - my mother and Alexis were uptight about this weekend."

"They. . .were?"

He shoots her a look because of the tone to her voice, and then realizes. "No, for me - they said I needed a plan. I didn't need a plan. Murder found us."

She hums, then shrugs and swallows the grape. "Why would you need a plan? I mean, wasn't the plan to hang out at your house and swim and. . .have sex?"

He lets out quick puff of laughter. "Well. Yeah. Guess they thought I needed. . .more?"

"I don't need more, Castle."

Castle narrows his eyes. That's not entirely true, is it? She does. She might like to think she's low maintenance, and in many cases, she is. . .but not with that whole _I can't help thinking about the other women you've brought here_ comment.

She has needs; he's got to keep that in mind. She needs things from him to keep this steady.

"Wait," she says suddenly, her hand arrested right before her mouth, fingers swallowing the grape instead. "Alexis was at your place Friday?"

"Yeah. She said-"

"Alexis was at home? Was she home all weekend?"

He slides a look over at her. "Yes. She was home all weekend. Why?"

"But we. . .left."

Oh.

"Yeah."

She drops her hand into her lap, apparently having forgotten about that grape because now she's nibbling on her lower lip. He loves that crease in her forehead and the dimensions in her eyes as she works a problem.

"It hasn't been _that_ long, you know. I can go more than a week without seeing her." He gets a slim, raised eyebrow for that. "Besides, she didn't have classes Friday so we hung out."

"Oh. Good."

He lets her think on that for a while, concentrates on angling them through traffic.

* * *

She refuses to pop a grape into his mouth for him. Refuses.

"Take it. You have hands," she mutters.

"But traffic is _so_ bad and you want me to be safe. Ten and two, remember? I was expressly told to keep my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road-"

"I'm not feeding you." She opens her palm and tilts-

He doesn't move for it; the grape rolls off her palm and into his lap.

He glances down, back up again quickly. "You better get that. I don't wanna accidentally crush grape all into my seat."

She laughs in surprise and narrows her eyes at him. Was this his plan all along?

Fine. _Let's see if you still think you're so clever._

Kate slides her fingers lightly over his arm, curls them at his elbow in a glancing touch, and then hovers at his waist. She can practically _hear_ his hard swallow.

She lets her fingers dance at his upper thigh, can't help flick her eyes to his mouth as he presses his lips together. She slides in-

"Never mind. I got it," he says quickly, and fishes the grape out, pops it into his mouth.

"Gross," she murmurs. "That was in your seat."

His eyes cut across to hers. There is so much more there now - layers of meaning, intimations he's not saying, dialogue from last night, language between them, whole books of information.

He doesn't say any of it, but he doesn't need to.

She knows.

* * *

"What are you doing tonight?" he says, before he can stop himself. He lifts her bag out of the trunk and hands it over, the car double parked in front of her building.

Kate steps in and brushes her fingers at his belt. "Maybe I'm doing you."

Castle brands a hard kiss to her mouth, more hot than suave, nipping her bottom lip as he pulls back. She's smiling again.

She raises an eyebrow. "So, am I?"

"You are," he agrees.

"Go park your car."

He leers at her and gets a thump to his ear. He rubs at it. "Ow."

"You don't get to make the lame ones, Castle. When your lines are clever again, then you can be as dirty and lecherous as you like."

He grins even wider, steals another kiss before he backs away, fishing his keys out of his pocket. "Sounds like a challenge. And I am always u-"

"If you say _up for it_, that's strike one."

"Ooh, Kate. What happens when I've got three strikes?"

"I'm sure you'll find out."


End file.
